


Brutality

by My_Beating_Hart



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Character, Gen, Zevran is disturbed once again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6133218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beating_Hart/pseuds/My_Beating_Hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally, Zevran was more than confident in facing two opponents. He would have been confident even if he was alone. Having Theron with him evened the odds regardless, but he did have to keep a worried eye on the archer. This time, he was <i>not</i> so confident. Not when both opponents were easily twice their weight or more, and possibly even twice their height.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brutality

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, Dark!Theron. Long time no see.  
> Concrit appreciated.

Normally, Zevran was more than confident in facing two opponents. He would have been confident even if he was alone. Having Theron with him evened the odds regardless, but he did have to keep a worried eye on the archer. This time, he was _not_ so confident. Not when both opponents were easily twice their weight or more, and possibly even twice their height. Damned Qunari.

He dodged the grey arc of a heavy greatsword, and it thudded into the ground inches away from his feet. He tried again to strike at a weak point in his opponent’s armour, but the heavy plate metal's wearer did not co-operate; his blades scraped along with a most jarring sound of metal against metal as the taller man moved back. He frowned in disappointment, and then found himself dancing away once more out of the reach of another swipe.

His opponent practically growled at him, spitting out something in Qunlat as he pivoted to follow the rogue. Zevran doubted it was a compliment towards his agility and fast reflexes, but he preferred to think of it as that. Really, Qunari warriors were so very slow. He had trained with Sten for this kind of situation - not necessarily a roaming band of Qunari completely out of nowhere against just the two of them. But he couldn’t complain, it was definitely valuable training. These two Qunari were the last ones out of the small group they’d managed to upset, mercifully. At this point, he could only truly count on wearing his much larger opponent out first. He knew he was certainly beginning to tire. He'd already done that several times over, and his armour clung to his skin

He spared a brief glance at Theron, who seemed to be managing by himself surprisingly well, ducking away from the swipes of a mace in an even more complicated dance, trying to get enough distance to aim and loose an arrow without being injured. The rush of air made Zevran quickly return his attention to his own fight, and he practically jumped back from another clumsy swipe. The action left the towering Qunari open on his left side, and Zevran was all too happy to take the opportunity to dart in and sink a dagger into a gap in the armour.

Of course, he was too elated by finally doing some damage to step back immediately, and a heavy backhanded blow sent him flying, where he rolled until a rock jutting up from the ground stopped him. He groaned in pain that radiated down his struck head, back and one leg, trying and failing to work through the shock and get back up. He’d dropped a dagger, hadn’t he?

He looked up, and the breath caught in his throat as he watched the Qunari advance; he had to admit, the other man cut a highly imposing figure in the plate mail and war paint, along with the two curved, metal-tipped horns that reached even higher upwards. If they weren’t actively trying to kill each other, Zevran would have been fascinated by finally seeing Qunari with horns. A shame they’d managed to run afoul of this group simply by passing too close.

Zevran swallowed, able now to prop his upper body up onto his elbows far too late. The Qunari man was starting to raise his sword for the final blow. There was no way he would be able to get out of the way now. Not exactly the ideal way he wished to die, but he’d put up a good fight.

“Theron-” He began sharply, knowing that the archer wouldn’t last long against two heavily armoured Qunari. He needed to run while he still could.

A startled noise of pain from the Qunari _not_ currently about to kill him cut him off, followed in the same second by the sound of running footsteps. In the time it took Zevran to blink and the other Qunari to lift his greatsword higher, Theron had broken away from his opponent - not to run away, but _towards_ the metal-tipped Qunari.

Zevran stared in disbelief as the ranger launched himself up onto Metal-Tip’s back, the movement and impact sudden enough for the heavy greatsword to falter. Dimly, the prone blond heard the clatter of Theron’s bow as it hit the floor not far from where he lay.

Metal-Tip’s arms wavered from their pose, and then the sword fell - not out and down to strike Zevran, but merely down so the far taller man could have one hand free to try and grab ahold of the furious elf that was hitching a ride on his back. Theron’s head popped into sight over the Qunari’s broad shoulder, and the sight would have been comical enough to make Zevran laugh if it hadn’t been for the look of unfettered _fury_ on the Dalish elf’s face.

Theron’s eyes were open wide, his grey irises thrown into all the more contrast with his dark skin and hair due to the whites of his eyes being visible. His teeth were bared in something closely resembling a snarl. It sent an awful chill through Zevran as he lay there on the floor, and he was deeply glad that he was on Theron’s side.

Now his opponent wasn’t about to kill him, Zevran risked a glance towards the other Qunari that Theron had been fighting. He was doubled over, blood flowing from his nose as he tried to wipe away the dirt that made his eyes stream and kept him blinded. Hm.

Zevran urged his body to move as Theron remained clinging to Metal-Tip’s back and managed to shakily push himself up into a sitting position as one of the ranger’s hands reached up to yank at one metal-tipped horn and pull the giant’s head back sharply.

The Qunari grunted in pain and then swore, tossing his head violently in an attempt to dislodge his attacker, but all it did was make him stagger under the added weight. Clearly frustrated to the point of distraction, Metal-Tip planted his sword in the ground and began using both hands to try and grab ahold of Theron until his head was pulled back again. This time, there was an odd cracking sound, and the Qunari yelled in pain as several inches of one tapering horn broke off in Theron’s hand. Judging from the way it splintered rather than broke cleanly, the metal-tipped horn must have already been weak. Zevran was surprised to see blood start to flow from the now halved horn, but Theron was far from done.

While the Qunari was distracted by his pain, Theron wrapped his free arm around the man’s neck tightly, confusing Zevran until he lifted up the improvised weapon, the metal tip pointed to the Qunari’s throat. How… Creative.

The giant recovered quickly, however, and began trying to pry Theron’s arm away from his neck. The noise Theron made during the struggle was one Zevran could only describe as a _hiss_ through bared teeth, a raw and strangled noise that almost sounded like “ _No!_ ” The metal-tipped horn flashed in Theron’s still free hand, and Zevran watched as Theron stabbed with it - not for the Qunari’s exposed throat, but for his _eye_.

Zevran winced and looked away with a shudder a second before Metal-Tip bellowed in a mixture of rage and pain. No doubt the blow had met its target. A _very_ vulnerable, delicate target. He kept his gaze on the ground, on Theron’s discarded bow, until the Qunari man abruptly stood still and his stomach stopped churning uneasily. When he dared peer back up, he glimpsed two dark eye sockets partially obscured by blood and gore, the metal-tipped horn embedded firmly in it’s… Owner’s? Grower’s? exposed throat.

The giant swayed on his feet like a tree, his chest heaving as his lungs pulled desperately for air but filled with blood instead, bloodied foam gathered at his lips. For some reason Zevran was reminded of all the times they’d killed ogres during the Blight and sent them toppling, as he watched the Qunari bleed and sway and slowly die on his feet.

Theron didn’t wait for the body to collapse to the floor hard enough to make the ground shake. With bloodied hands and face he’d already dropped down and picked up his bow to fire one, two arrows in rapid succession at point-blank range into the still-blinded Qunari’s throat in a single fluid motion. Within seconds of his friend, the last Qunari also fell like a stone statue to bleed out slowly into the earth. The white spray of fletching on the embedded arrows quivered delicately as the body twitched futilely. There was a deathly silence.

Theron stood with his back to Zevran, body still tensed for action - legs braced with a slight bend to them, one bloodstained hand gripping his bow tightly, head held high and alert. Tremors rippled through him as he panted for breath. The sound of his rapid breathing and the creak of his upper armour moving as a result were the only sounds now in the lull after combat. Zevran’s tongue felt like a brick in his mouth as he stared.

Well, then.

Zevran could only imagine what Theron’s expression was. Was it still that taut grimace of unrestrained fury? The cruel flash of bared teeth and intense grey eyes like a cornered predator? Or now the threat to himself, to them both, was now passed was Theron calming down? Zevran was silent for a very long time, looking up at Theron’s turned back warily as he watched and listened to the other elf’s breathing return to normal. He didn’t dare try and get the ranger’s attention by moving until then. Just in case those pinpointed pupils snapped to him and he saw again the truly frightening mask of fury and vengeful bloodlust. Zevran got to his feet quietly and picked up his daggers, happily sheathing them.

“Well…” He cleared his throat, looking away from the slumped forms of the two _very_ unfortunate Qunari. He didn’t want to look at the gored and bleeding forms for longer than he had to, this time. Theron had just killed two Qunari warriors single-handedly. Had he taken a page out of Oghren’s book and become a reaver? Oh, Sten would no doubt have nightmares if he caught wind of this.

Theron turned around then, and despite the splashes of blood on his face, his expression was one of familiar neutrality. That just made what had happened all the more unsettling, how Theron could return to his usual calm outward appearance after doing something so brutal and sudden it still made Zevran feel uneasy.

He’d seen Theron’s cruelty with Caladrius when it was as cold as ice, calculated and leisurely unforgiving. He’d thought that grim mask had been disturbing enough. But _this_ had been born in the heat of combat, pure violence and bloodshed, even if it had simply been to protect them both from certain death. Theron rightly kept it chained up far, far from the surface of his being. And when those chains were broken and it erupted to the surface without warning…

“The things you do for love, no?” Zevran offered weakly. Theron smiled mutely in response. His expression slowly faded to one of resigned weariness as the rush of battle drained away. His gaze left Zevran and he tilted his head back to stare up at the sky as if he was searching for forgiveness among the heavens that had witnessed the brutality.


End file.
